Fifty Three
Astralode, Myst City Palace
Astralode marched down the lavish marble chambers towards the King's throne room. His cloak dragged behind him on the floor. His mind was burdened with important information.
He approached the tall arches of the doorway and the royal guards uncrossed their pikes to usher him in.
Their faces were barely visible under their loose-fitting helms. They were lavishly outfitted with shining armor and colorful tabards emblazoned with the symbol of the Myst City royal family. Glorified mascots, never straying too far from King Pious.
With an exertion of strength Astralode pushed open the tall doors and stepped through the threshold.
Stained glass windows illuminated the marble chamber. Vivid tapestries hung on the walls depicting the rich history and myths of Turbulus.
Stone busts of the former kings lined either side of a red carpet. Astralode frowned at the bust of king Auriolus, the monarch who offered him death or service seven centuries ago.
King Pious sat on his ebony, jewel-clad throne, lost in thought.
"My liege," Astralode addressed the king.
The king slung his magisterial cape over his shoulder and sat up. His fine silk clothes gave off a brilliant sheen topped only by the crown nestled on his head, but his troubled expression was evident, as it usually was when dealing with the greedy, ambitious noble families.
He held a particular distaste for the Medici Family, only allowing one to serve as an advisor to appease them. It was always a balancing act, selfish nobles on one side and the sanctimonious First Cleric on the other.
He often wondered if he had any power at all in this city.
The King must have a lot on his mind Astralode thought. He had known the king for years, and knew too well the pressures of his station.
"What can I do for you today, Chronicler?" King Pious inquired wearily.
"My liege, I have news from Gladius," Astralode began. The king raised his eyebrows curiously.
"I hope it isn't another request to release a criminal," he sighed, referring to Umbra's royal pardon he begrudgingly signed.
"No, your majesty, Gladius and Fletcher are going to engage a Demon Lord out in The Golden Fields, they contacted me via scrying orb," Astralode explained bowing with respect, his beard hanging almost to the floor.
The king stood up and walked over to the nearest tapestry. The bright, intricately woven drapery depicted the Twilight Wars and the final decisive battle. He hung his head.
"I hope he knows what he's getting himself into. Those vile tyrants almost destroyed this land once. They've been a thorn in my side for too long," Without turning around he continued. "Which demon is he fighting?"
"Belial, one of the lesser," Astralode replied.
The King sighed. "Thankfully it isn't Mammon or Iblis, or Maker forbids, Azazel," he sighed. "Those abominations are near invincible."
The king lamented their grim fate. "Our list of allies grows thin, and our defenses were shattered," he mourned, running his fingers through his gray beard.
"I have been contacted by Magister Lunaris of Darkwoods. He's pledging his loyalty to our cause in lieu of his debt to the Golden Sun, he is seeking additional support at an upcoming council," Astralode announced.
The King did not share his enthusiasm. "How do we know we can trust them?" he inquired sternly, turning to face Astralode.
It was a valid concern considering the hostility caused by Myst City's intrusive logging operations in Darkwoods and a recent border skirmish.
"At this point we can't be picky with our allies, we need all the help we can muster," the old wizard replied grimly.